My Mom got an Alexa for Christmas this year. As far back as I can remember, she’s forever been dancing around the house, shaking it at parties, harmonizing to whatever tune comes on the car radio. Her house in Virginia had become quiet since my Dad passed away, and my sister and I realized her stereo was too antiquated (key words: tape deck) for actual usage. So we got her the smart speaker, mindful of the fact that she’s typically suspicious of new technology. On a recent visit, I set it up in her kitchen and needn’t have worried—she took to the new device like a duck to water. Her first request, for some reason, was Hall & Oates. Once she realized that wasn’t going to do it for her, she was on to Trini Lopez, the 1960’s Latin folk sensation. The joy was palpable as she danced around the kitchen to Cielito Lindo.

As evening drew near, and she had run through the Beatles and the Stones, we wondered aloud what to have for dinner. In addition to loving music, she’s a food fanatic and knows what she likes. We had gone out the night before, and it was getting too late to shop and cook at home.

“How about we pick up some hot chicken?” I asked, as I finished ridding her cabinets of vitamins and lipsticks from 1997.

“YES!”

So we put in our order—“HOT” in the middle of a scale that ranges from Classic (no heat) to Code Blue (super extra hot) and we headed to our usual spot for pickup.

We both adore spicy food, a family trait she inherited from her father, who used to say nothing was hot enough “unless you sweat behind the ears.” For us, it’s not a distraction from flavor but instead another taste dimension, like umami or crunch. Mom keeps a tiny, adorable bottle of Tabasco in her purse at all times to season her eggs during travel; somehow, this has never triggered an intervention at airport security. I’m happy to be married to a fellow spice lover, and our 11-year-old son liberally sprinkles red pepper flakes on his pizza. We’re no strangers to the “what the hell” fried rice at our favorite Thai restaurant. When it comes to hot chicken, Mom and I are both code blue curious…but even we have our limits.

Back at the house, we got dinner going. She brought out the old brown salad bowl with the ridges around the side, and I turned on the oven to give our chicken some extra crisp. Perhaps the highlight of this takeout indulgence is the fried okra we always order on the side, and that got some extra crisping, too. The standard “side” portion is around the size of a wine crate, and we’re good with that quantity of okra. You can’t completely take the South out of a woman, after all.

Once everything was crisped to satisfaction and the salad tossed, we were sitting down to dinner, when Mom popped up and went back into the kitchen.

“Alexa,” I heard her say as I piled okra on my plate. “Play Elvis Presley.”

Now if you’ve ever met my Mom, you’ve probably heard the story. She knows I know it, but she loves to tell it again and again.

“When I was twelve, in the sixth grade, my friend asked me if I wanted to come to a concert with her mother and her—they had an extra ticket. ‘You know, Elvis Presley? He sings Blue Suede Shoes?’ I’d never heard of the guy, but I figured I had nothing better to do that night. He was playing at the Mosque Theater, in Richmond. We were right near the front and I’d never seen anything like it before. Girls were freaking out. They were swooning. My own mother would have dragged us right out of there, but my friend’s mom was just as fascinated as we were, so we stayed for the whole thing. And then not long after that he was a super star. I didn’t get it, but I guess all those screaming gals did.”

“Did you become a fan, right then and there?”

“I didn’t know what to think. I was twelve. And he was so greasy.”

She thought for a second and speared an okra round. Perhaps visions of sideburns and hip swivels were parading through her memory. Hound Dog bumped from the speaker in the kitchen, and she continued:

“I watched that Elvis movie recently and the actor looked nothing like the real Elvis. Too clean cut. I mean…I saw the real deal up close, so I know. We were in the second row.”

The hot chicken was tasty and hit the spot. It could have been crispier, but that’s the gamble you make with takeout. In the subsequent days I thought a lot about hot chicken (and Elvis, too). I thought about how I might make it at home, and I remembered one of my favorite dishes at a neighborhood spot Popina: the hot chicken Milanese. A Milanese is a flattened version of fried chicken (see also katsu and schnitzel, as well as chicken cutlets), which gives it the advantage of quicker cooking, shallower oil, and less guesswork around doneness. The recipe below is what I came up with after some R & D. It’s neither a traditional hot chicken nor a true Milanese, but it’s delicious. You can dial the cayenne up or down, or eliminate it all together. I like this served with a nice, simple salad and half a lemon to lighten things and make it into a composed plate. It would be great with pickles and slaw, or on a Martin’s potato roll as a sandwich. You could also whip up a quick spicy mayo by stirring together mayonnaise and your favorite hot sauce, if you like things even hotter and richer.

This one’s dedicated to Mom:

Dial the spice up, down, or eliminate all together

RECIPE: HOT CHICKEN MILANESE

Ingredients:

4 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
2 tsp. cayenne pepper (adjust cautiously for more spice, dial it down or eliminate altogether for a non-spicy version)
4 tsp. sweet paprika
1 tsp. garlic powder
1 TBS. salt plus extra for seasoning at end
1 cup all-purpose flour
3 eggs
2 cups panko (Japanese) breadcrumbs
Peanut oil for frying (or canola, grapeseed, or other high-heat oil)
2 lemons, halved
Salad for serving: Arugula and cherry tomatoes, or any greens and shaved vegetables, tossed with olive oil and lemon juice, or your choice of dressing.

Instructions:

Flatten the chicken pieces: First pat them dry, then one at a time, place chicken thighs between two pieces of parchment paper on a cutting board. Using the flat side of a meat tenderizer, or a rolling pin, or bottom of a small pot, pound the chicken pieces until they are around 1/3” thick. It doesn’t have to be exact, just try to get it even and thin. No worries if you don’t have parchment paper—it just makes for neater work.
In a small bowl, mix the spices and salt together. Sprinkle the chicken pieces with around half of this mixture on both sides. You should have an even and fairly generous (but not too heavy) distribution. Reserve the other half of the spice mix for the end.
Set up a dredging station, which will have three steps: 1 plate or wide bowl for the flour, 1 bowl for the eggs, and 1 plate or wide bowl for the panko—plus a final tray, preferably with a rack, for the dredged chicken. Put the flour and panko on their separate plates, and beat the eggs in the bowl. Now dredge each seasoned piece. First, coat chicken completely with flour, then shake off any excess. Dip chicken pieces in the egg, then shake off as much as you can. Next, roll the chicken pieces in panko, pressing to coat every surface area with the crumbs. Repeat with all pieces, setting them on the tray at the end. When you’ve finished, put the tray with chicken in the refrigerator for a half hour to an hour to really set the panko—this will ensure your breading stays put during frying.
You can prepare the salad, if serving, while the chicken rests. When ready to cook, heat a skillet over medium high heat, with oil in it. You are shallow frying, so you want around 1/4” or less of oil, enough to cover the bottom of the skillet but not immerse the chicken. When the oil begins to shimmer slightly, place the pieces gently in the skillet, not touching. Fry around 3 minutes on each side, or until golden brown and crisp and cooked through. Move to a tray when done. Working quickly but carefully, spoon a few spoonfuls of hot oil into the bowl with the spices, and stir. Brush the hot oil onto the surface of the chicken, coating evenly. You can skip this step if you like your chicken milder, but either way sprinkle some salt on the chicken if you think it needs more seasoning (taste a bit of the breading if you’re not sure). Serve with lemon halves and salad.